


When The Scales Fall From Our Eyes

by Bead



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dom!Rodney, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oblivious John, Post-Mission, Sub!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a mission nearly-gone-very-wrong, John Sheppard can’t quite shake off his anxiety.  Denied his usual stress-releiving outlets, he ends up at Rodney’s door, spoiling for a fight.</p><p>Through season 5, Slightly-AU without Woolsey.</p><p>Thanks to gnomi and julia_here for beta-duties and hand-holding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Scales Fall From Our Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The title - somewhat to my surprised recollection - refers to the [New Testament](http://biblebrowser.com/acts/9-18.htm) story when Saul of Tarsus is cured of his blindness and sees the truth. Er. You can take the girl out of Sunday School, but....

It’s been under his skin all day – hell, all last night, too – a restless, dissatisfied tightness that leaves him so….Jesus. _Fuck._

_Sorry. Sorry, sweetheart._ John thinks to Atlantis as he pulls his punch at the wall, feeling very, very crazy. 

It’s not that John doesn’t know what this is. He does and he doesn’t. He thinks so. Well. If he let himself think about it, and maybe it’s time for a run. A terse email to Lorne and Sam and he stalks out of his office.

His reserves of civility burn up fast as he strides to his room. More than one person meets his eye, flinches and skitters away and a tiny little bit of John feels guilty when he barks “Can it wait?” at McMurphy (a marine who could probably bench press him) without breaking stride and the poor guy practically covers his balls with his tablet. 

Turns out, McMurphy’s question could wait. 

Half-way through his course it starts to rain. _Perfect._ The run doesn’t help; the endorphins don’t override that sense of unease he’s been carrying since yesterday and the feeling like he’s been creeped out by a nightmare long after waking. 

He is awake and things are okay and everyone got home, not even wounded but he can’t make his body believe it. Something in him _won’t_ or can’t believe. 

John doesn’t know how to let go of this. Teyla and Ronon are off world, so sparring is out, so maybe….

Maybe. 

He showers briskly and heads for Rodney’s quarters for a little bear-baiting; Rodney’s usually up for that. Maybe help get some of John’s ya-yas out.

The minute he stomps into Rodney’s quarters, Rodney’s chin goes up in challenge and John just – ignites. It seems like in the next blink, he hustles Rodney against the wall to kiss him as if it’s the only way he’s going to get any oxygen. 

John knows he’s making an admission in the noises from his mouth and his hands on Rodney’s body, but he can’t stop, can’t get enough of Rodney’s heat and life and all the things he could have – that Rodney almost – tossed away with that damn, big, hot wet mouth of his and John pushes at him, because he just has to, he just needs, he. 

Rodney pushes him away and it’s like a shock of ice water. John tries to pant his way to sanity, clenching his fists. 

Stepping forward, Rodney puts a hand on his cheek. “John. You with me?” 

Gulping in air, he nods and surges forward for Rodney’s mouth again, though he keeps his hands to himself. He’s desperate, John knows it, desperate and needy because _Rodney_ and Rodney and his mouth and his hands and just…

Rodney holds his face and kisses him back, not even trying to slow him down for a few perfect seconds, then grabs John’s wrists in both hands and holds them, tight, behind John’s back. 

It doesn’t occur to John right at that moment that he knows how to get out of that kind of hold. He’s panting, caught fast against Rodney’s chest and Rodney’s looking at him like he knows just how to take John apart and put him back together again. 

He thought he was hard before, but it is nothing to what Rodney really seeing him does. 

“Why?” Rodney asks quietly. 

John tries to choke down the noise that comes from low in his throat and tuck his face in Rodney’s neck. Rodney jerks his hands higher, preventing him, which, _ow_ , and John spares a thought to think that Rodney’s getting something out of his training sessions after all. 

“John.” His face is hard, set, and John wants Rodney to look at him again like he was a few seconds ago. 

“Rodney, I…” he’s dizzy, and starting to see spots. 

“Oh for god’s sake,” Rodney drops his wrists and gathers John in his arms, soothing him with long strokes down his back. “Breathe, dammit.” 

“I. I. Just.” John says from the shelter of Rodney’s neck. “Rodney.” He’s got both fists full of shirt and he’s shaking with the effort of trying to get the words out. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, you moron. Don’t pass out on me.” 

John snugs tighter into Rodney’s neck, a sharp-pitched curl of noise bursting out of him. 

“What happened? Is this about yesterday?”

A jerky nod of assent is all he can manage.

“You’re still mad about that? I said I was sorry.”

John gives him an extra squeeze. _He did. He did say that._

“What’s different?” 

John shakes his head. How should he know? It just was. He lets his brain stumble forward. “It was worse?” he finally admits.

“Worse how?”

It suddenly hits him. “Each time gets worse. Each. Like when Michael’s lab. And I thought. God.” He rubs his face against the cotton on Rodney’s shoulder. “And before, when we were dreaming – the crystal thing - and I…I thought. That he…” His throat gets tight as he thinks about all the near-misses and almost-times. 

“Oh,” Rodney’s voice is soft, rueful and he shivers a little in John's arms. “No picnic for me either,” Rodney says, his breath catching in his throat, “When you…” 

John fumbles for Rodney’s mouth. He’s sorry about that. He really is. It’s his job to put himself on the line and Rodney has yelled about that plenty…but Rodney should never have to, never. He can’t, he can’t just…and he’s got to learn when to keep his big mouth shut off world. 

He realizes that he’s been saying this aloud when Rodney murmurs with a slightly steely note underneath. “Going to send me to the labs? Put me in a bubble?”

The thought appeals for a giddy microsecond. “No!” John huffs. _No no no no no._ He kisses it, fast, into Rodney’s mouth so he gets it, gets how much John needs him out there, here in Atlantis, anywhere, with him by his side. “No.” 

“Okay,” he says breathlessly, running his hands up and down John’s sides, “good.” 

The crazy thing winds tight in John again, “But. You just _can’t_ ” he growls, shaking Rodney a little. “You can’t.” He cannot get enough of Rodney’s mouth, his big stupid, brilliant smartass mouth, and he hangs on to Rodney’s biceps to hold him in place. _You can’t die. You can’t leave me._

Rodney just stands there, kissing him sweetly through the onslaught, so tender it makes John’s breath hitch in half-sobs. He gets his hands under Rodney’s shirt to hot smooth skin that makes him groan with how much he’s needed this very thing.

“I didn’t know, Rodney,” John hears himself say, sounding drunk. “That I…” 

“Well, you’re kind of stupid like that,” Rodney replies shakily. 

Even John knows his laugh is a little hysterical, so he dives back in for Rodney’s mouth, nearly overbalancing them both. 

Rodney flails briefly and laughs as he rights them and takes John’s face in both hands. “Listen.” 

John blinks, shaky and two steps from being just _wrecked_ and Rodney’s hardly touched him. 

“Let me drive tonight, okay? Before you hurt something,” he presses his forehead to John’s. “Or me.” 

John nods helplessly, so relieved. 

“Help me get this shirt off,” Rodney steps back slightly and his voice is gentle but firm. John scrambles to obey, pulling it quickly over Rodney’s head. He tosses it to the side and puts his hands on Rodney’s waist, asking silently. 

Rodney takes a deep breath. “How much have you done, John? With other men.” 

John answers by sliding to his knees. His hands are shaking, but he makes pretty quick work of Rodney’s pants. Rodney’s hands are gentle on his shoulders and he sways a little, making a quiet sound. 

Soon, he can lean forward and nuzzle the front of Rodney’s shorts, all along the hot, hard length of him. He smells incredible. John mouths around the head, searching for how he tastes. Rodney groans softly and lets John explore. 

He unlaces Rodney’s boots and helps him kick his pants off before he eases his boxers down. Rodney’s gorgeous, uncut cock flushed red and so hard, jutting out from reddish curls. Skin like silk and velvet under John’s hands, warm and smooth. John touches his tongue lightly to the crown, laps up a tiny bit of shiny fluid, mouth watering at the taste. 

Rodney’s hands bite into his shoulders and John freezes, his face buried in the crease of Rodney’s leg. 

“I want this to last,” Rodney says, his voice rasping low in a way that makes John shiver and wrap his arms around Rodney’s hips. “If I let you touch me for a little while, use your mouth like you want, will you stop when I tell you? Could you?” 

He wouldn’t want to, John knows. Wouldn’t want to lose the weight of Rodney on his tongue or the sweet, thin skin of his hipbones under his hands, or most of all, that place he can go to, sometimes, where doing this, having a man in his mouth, giving himself over to the taste and smell and salt and strength and giving pleasure makes almost everything else fade away. 

“John.” 

Tightening his arms around Rodney’s legs, John shakes his head, a little shamed by the admission. Rodney strokes his hair. 

“Come here, then.” 

John inhales Rodney’s scent one more time and stands up. He doesn’t know where to look – should he keep his head down, does Rodney want that? – and he is very trembly.

“Hey. Shhhh.” Rodney cups his face again, steadying John and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. He takes a breath and kisses John a little deeper, dipping in for enough of a taste that John sways into to it and makes a soft sound of regret when Rodney pulls away. 

John knows enough not to chase after Rodney's mouth when they part, but he can't stop himself from staring. Rodney's mouth is deep red and kiss swollen. It's beautiful. He wants to lean forward, taste it again or trace Rodney's mouth with his fingers, but instead he stays still (Rodney's driving), licks his own lips and stares. 

Rodney catches his eye and smiles, looking pleased and blushing slightly. He helps John get his shirt off silently, then steps forward and watches John’s eyes as he opens John’s pants and boxers. His hands are hot and huge on John’s hips and he stands there, taking in every twitch and shiver and everything John can’t keep off his face. 

Closing his eyes, John gulps, waiting for Rodney to touch him. 

And Rodney kneels, surprising a startled noise out of John. He hangs onto Rodney’s broad shoulders while Rodney runs his hands down John’s legs, easing boots off and then his pants. Leaning forward, Rodney presses a long, slow kiss to the base of John’s cock, and cradles his balls softly in one hand. A meandering, wet lick and a little bit of pressure in the right place and John’s knees are buckling, but Rodney’s got him and steadies him as he stands. 

Rodney holds John by the arms, watching John shiver and bite his mouth and try not to forget his promise to let Rodney drive and just _lunge_. Just at the moment John’s about to start fucking whimpering with frustration, Rodney yanks John forward and just _takes_ his mouth. 

John melts, a groan breaking free from the painful anxious snarl in his chest. _Rodney_. With something like gratitude, he tilts his face to Rodney’s and just gives over, lets him take whatever he needs. 

Not much bigger than John, Rodney has heaver muscle mass in his arms and shoulders and the way Rodney’s holding him feels… protective and reassuring despite how John’s shaking himself into component parts and _God_ he had no idea how necessary this was. 

It should have always been like this. Rodney’s got him tonight and one night soon John’ll have Rodney - hopefully, if Rodney wants it - and it’ll be another way they save each other and oh, Rodney’s mouth, his _mouth_. 

John’s hands are behind his back again and he’s pressed tight against Rodney’s chest, so Rodney can feel _everything_. How hard John is, how his muscles jump when Rodney touches him, how John can’t help rubbing against Rodney as much as he’s allowed to move, skin to skin and the trip-hammer crash of John’s heart. 

“You’re not going to distract me from getting a few answers, John,” Rodney says, teeth and tongue working a place on John’s throat that’s making him push up on his toes for more. 

“Hnnh?” John gasps. 

“How.” Rodney scatters playful little bites across his shoulder, “Much. Have. You. Done. With other men?” He latches onto a tender bit of skin between throat and collarbone that actually kind of fucking hurts. 

“Rnnnnnndy! Ow!” He twists in Rodney’s grip. 

“Hmmm. Sorry. Little thin skinned, are we?” Rodney says as he licks the stinging place to soothe it. “Tell me.” 

Somehow, while John was trying to answer Rodney’s question - when John _clearly_ was too far gone to use the talking sense part of his brain - Rodney’s worked out a way to keep both of John’s arms trapped behind his back and have one free. That free hand now works its way across John’s ass, massaging and grabbing and pulling John’s hips in tighter. And Rodney continues to kiss and bite and touch, as if that’s going to help John gather his thoughts. All he can do is shiver and sigh and clutch at Rodney’s restraining hand and…

“John.” Rodney says into his collarbone, mouth poised over that bit of skin that’s still stinging. 

He blinks his way back, swallowing hard. “B-blow jobs. Hand.”

Soft lips trail up his throat to whisper in his ear. “No kissing? You seem to like kissing.”

“N-not…I mean, yes, do kiss…kiss _you_ …not…”he tries to duck his head to capture Rodney’s mouth, but Rodney just threads his hand into John’s hair and holds him in place.

“Shhhh. No fucking?” Rodney’s voice drops to a register that makes John moan. 

“No.” 

Rodney’s teeth graze his throat. “No kissing. No fucking. Why’s that, John?” His voice has that sharp edge in it again. “Keeping plausible deniability? Your commission? What?”

John squirms, trying to get away or get at Rodney’s mouth, he doesn’t know, he just wants to stop talking, but Rodney’s got his wrist and one hand in his hair and the only thing left is to start using his feet and go for below the belt and…..his breath whooshes out of his lungs when Rodney slams him up against the wall. 

“Ow?” John fusses, glaring and then realizes Rodney’s _furious_ and he goes still, because, _shit_. 

“You came in here and kissed me, John. You kissed me. You slammed me up against this wall and tried to crawl inside my _mouth_ , Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, and if you don’t tell me right now why I _can_ kiss you, and if I can _fuck_ you, I am tossing you out of here on your unbelievably attractive ass.”

Rodney doesn’t get it. John thought he got it, but he doesn’t. Sighing, John turns his head aside and closes his eyes. 

“John.” Rodney slides his hand between John and the wall, cups John's cheek, but he can’t open his eyes, not yet. He does lean into Rodney’s hand a little. 

“Okay, so I won’t really throw you out. But I need to know before…I need to know, John.” 

_Before I fuck everything up even more_ John thinks. Rodney’s voice sounds so broken it makes John’s eyes sting.

He presses his face into Rodney’s hand, swallows once, twice, and manages to whisper, “Just. Getting off. Didn’t.” he has to stop and take a few long breaths through his nose. “They didn’t matter.” 

Rodney gently, so gently, turns John’s face forward. John, all wrung out, lets him. 

“And this does,” Rodney says, still gentle, his voice wobbling. “I do.” 

John nods against the cradle of Rodney’s palm and forces himself to open his eyes. He tries to put everything he has into the word. “Yes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

John’s not sure what he expected – maybe Rodney wrapping around him and allowing them to get caught up in the heat of skin on skin again – but what John gets is Rodney's face buried in the crook of his neck, a full body shiver and a couple of harsh noises muffled against his skin.

Before John can wrap his arms around Rodney to soothe him or fully start to worry about his reaction, Rodney’s peeling him off the wall and leading John to the bed, one hand wrapped tight around his wrist. 

A lot – most of – the nasty edge of uneasiness and tension has leached out of John, leaving him nearly stumbling with weariness. And part of it’s the exhaustion of telling Rodney, of getting that close to telling Rodney, how he feels. John’s grateful that Rodney can hold them up and hold them together right now. 

“Go on,” Rodney coaxes, “lie down for me.” 

In kind of a dreamy haze, John does, stretching out as much as he can on the small bed. It’s larger than his own, but no where near a luxurious size. Even so, it’s very comfortable and he can’t help stretching a little, easing some of the ache in his muscles. 

Rodney smiles at him, a small, teasing curl at the corner of his mouth. “Showing off?”

“Nnnnn,” John replies, doing it again and adding an extra arch to his back. “Feels good.” 

Standing at the end of the bed, Rodney slides his hand over John’s ankle and up his calf. “Keep your arms over your head,” he says with a directive tilt of his chin.

Sucking in a sharp breath, John obeys. He’d lost most of his erection during that nerve-wracking talk, but Rodney’s eyes on him, watching him, seeing his body react, seeing _him_ , is making John hard very fast. 

“Hmm,” Rodney makes a little contemplative noise as he trails too-light fingers over John’s cock. “So very, very gorgeous.” 

Somehow, everything he admitted to Rodney before allows John to whisper, “Nuh-uh, _you_. You’re.” He arches up, seeking more contact. 

Rodney, maddening fingers tracing patterns on John’s inner thigh, circling in, scoffs, “Oh please. Have you looked in a…”

Shaking his head, John cuts him off, screwing his eyes shut in order to concentrate. It’s hard to get these kind of words out at the best of times. It seems important to try. “Great arms, shoulders,” then he opens his eyes and grins. " _Ass_.” 

Rodney preens a little and settles on the bed next to John’s hip, looking exasperated and fond. “And you didn’t realize you were attracted to me? While ogling my ass?” 

“Rodney, other _planets_ know about your ass.” 

“All right, that’s just disturbing,” Rodney mutters as he stretches out next to John. He watches John’s face as he slides his hand slowly between John’s legs to cup John’s inner thigh, the backs of his knuckles grazing John’s sac. John squirms, unable to help the whine that comes out. 

“Keep your eyes open, John. Let me see.” 

The _bigness_ of not being able to close his eyes and hide or drift away on Rodney’s touch makes John gasp. He almost tries to wiggle out from under Rodney’s regard, but he manages to blink a couple of times and stay put, eyes open. 

Rodney presses his thumb, just a little, behind John’s balls and John arches up, his hands automatically reaching for Rodney’s shoulders. He tilts his face up for a kiss. 

“Not very good at following instructions, are you?”

John’s hands latch onto the panel above the bed as fast as he can get them there and he widens his eyes exaggeratedly, silently pointing out that he’s got at least _one_ of them down. Mostly. Rodney snorts, an everyday, comforting (John realizes) sound.

Keeping his own eyes open as he leans in, Rodney kisses John slowly, all soft lips and velvety tongue. It’s almost unbearably intimate, eyes open and so close. John feels shaken and even more exposed by the time it’s done. 

Rodney strokes the inside of John’s thigh (John spreads his legs eagerly), and John gets a reprieve from Rodney’s intense gaze for a moment as Rodney slowly strokes up one thigh and down, over the other and across his hips and belly, scratching his nails through the hair there and around John’s cock. John squirms, hips hitching and back arching in a not at all silent plea for Rodney to _please, please_ touch him. 

“I am touching you,” Rodney says, a little out of breath under his light tone. “And I’m going to keep touching you like this, John,” Rodney inhales and sighs shakily, his hand pressing down, broad and warm, against John’s stomach. 

“Because I thought about having this," he continues, stroking John's stomach with the flat of his hand, "your skin. What you might like. How you’d sound. "Unlike _you_ , Colonel Oblivious.” His voice trails off while his fingers trail up and down John’s belly and chest. He stops to tease a nipple. John shivers and sighs. 

“Hey, _eyes open_ ,” Rodney barks. 

John’s hips snap up, hard, and he freezes on a long, drawn out cry, eyes open but staring sightlessly at the ceiling. 

Rodney taps his cheek and turns John’s face so that their eyes meet. “You know why I’m doing this, right, John? I know it’s hard. Especially for you.” 

John shakes his head slightly. 

“So you can remember where you are and who you’re with.” 

“Rodney,” John wheezes, dismayed, a dreadful pressure in his chest making him barely able to force out the word. 

“Oh, no,” Rodney smiles, giving John a soft kiss, “not that.” Fear and determination creep into his expression. “It’s why I made you tell me, you know, before.” Rodney closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them, he’s even more determined. “So tomorrow, when you wake up from all this, you can’t run away from me. Because I know why you came to me and what it means and what is happening now.” His gaze sharpens. “And you’ll remember that I know.” 

“ _Rodney,_ ”John says, voice breaking, and he wiggles closer (forgetting he could move his hands), eyes wide with trying to make him believe. Unable to hug, he presses his face into Rodney’s neck. “I wouldn’t. I _won’t,_ ” he whispers, though John realizes, deep down, that there might have been a chance of that very thing happening. He’s very good at running.

Rodney’s hand is so warm on the back of his neck. “Forgive me for making sure,” he says ruefully. And that’s a whole world of information that makes John’s chest ache. He doesn’t want that to happen - wants to make sure it _won’t_ happen - to Rodney again.

He kisses Rodney’s neck sloppily, somewhat frantically, trailing his lips up Rodney’s throat to bite at the underside of his jaw, to kiss behind his ear. He curls as much of himself as he can into the curve of Rodney’s body. Rodney shifts so their mouths meet and he kisses John through each hitching breath. His hand trembles against John’s cheek.

John watches the whole time, even though Rodney’s eyes flutter and close. He wants to – he will – remember everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my personal favorites, and the result if my trying to push myself out of my comfort zone. It was so intense, being in John's head, I had to take frequent breaks. I wrote over a half-dozen fics in the interim, nearly all comedy. I'll get around to putting some of those up. ;)


End file.
